Two days later, I stood before the mirror, draped in a deep red wedding saree, its gold embroidery glowing against my skin. My mother's trembling fingers fastened the last piece of jewelry, while Anita and my friends giggled and adjusted my veil. Their smiles were bright, but in their eyes shimmered the same ache I carried.
A soft knock on the door.
"Is she ready?" my father's voice came, faint yet warm.
I pressed my lips together, forcing back the sting in my eyes. "Almost, Papa."
I knew time was slipping. The thought made my chest heavy, but today wasn't for sorrow—it was for him, for his smile.
When I stepped into the marriage hall, the sight stole my breath. Drapes of red and lemon-yellow lit the space like sunlight. Guests filled the seats in bright silks, laughter and chatter rising above the echo of dhol beats. And there he was—Vaishank—seated under the mandap, a cream sherwani sharpening his frame. Sudesh whispered something in his ear, making him laugh, but the moment his gaze found mine, his smile softened. The crowd disappeared. It was only him.
My steps felt weightless, as though I was walking straight into a dream. Sitting beside him, the rituals began. Flames crackled, mantras resonated, and for a fleeting second, "Raj, meet my elder brother Ritish," Anil uncle said, introducing the man beside him.
My dad's brows drew together slightly. "Have we met before?" he asked, studying Ritish.
For a moment, something unreadable flickered across Ritish's face, but then he smiled and patted my dad's shoulder. "That was the past. Let's just live this moment now," he said warmly, pulling him into a hug.
My dad chuckled and returned the embrace, his laughter light, as if old walls had suddenly dissolved.
I glanced at Vaishank. He was already watching me, his smile gentle, like he too felt the strange comfort of the moment.
I saw my father talking with Anil uncle. They laughed together, shoulders shaking, as though for that moment nothing else existed. I locked that memory deep in my heart.
Then came the knot—the mangal sutra brushing against my skin, the vermilion pressed gently onto my forehead. My parents' tears glistened as they watched. Even Sudesh, always so composed, quickly blinked away the wetness in his eyes.
"You're mine now," Vaishank whispered, his lips curling with a promise.
A smile trembled on my face, half shy, half overwhelmed.
The bidaai came too soon. Hugging my parents felt like tearing myself in two. My throat burned, but words wouldn't come. My father's lips lingered on my forehead, and my mother's sobs soaked into my shoulder. I waved until they blurred in the distance, my chest aching like it would split apart.
A warm hand slipped into mine. "You can visit them anytime," Vaishank murmured, thumb brushing over my knuckles. I leaned against him, his kiss landing softly on my forehead.
But the car stopped—not at his mansion. Instead, we stood before a condominium. Confusion clouded me until the elevator carried us up and my eyes landed on the nameplate: VaishRita.
Inside, his parents welcomed me with rituals, Sona aunty's smile radiant as if she had waited for this moment all her life. My face heated, and I lowered my eyes, cheeks burning.
And then… I remembered.
---
(Flashback)
That night, on the swing, he had sat quietly, shadows playing across his face.
"What are you doing alone?" I had asked, nudging him.
"Waiting. For you," he had said, his smile small but full of meaning. "I thought you wouldn't come. But you did. Lucky me."
I had rolled my eyes and smacked his shoulder. "You and your silly plans."
We laughed, then fell into a silence that wasn't uncomfortable.
"I kept watching Anita and Nikhil," he had admitted softly. "I imagined us. But I'll wait. Until you finish your studies."
I had smiled back, my chest warm.
"Tell me," he'd asked, tilting his head. "What kind of house do you dream of?"
"Nothing big," I had replied, gazing up at the sky. "A condo. An apartment. Somewhere small. Where closeness feels closer. A simple, comfortable life."
---
(Now)
Tears stung my eyes as I looked at him. He squeezed my shoulder gently. "This is our house, Amrita."
Words failed me. My chest swelled, and I pressed my lips tight to keep the tears from spilling.
"Come, sit," Sona aunty said kindly. "Your bedroom will be ready soon."
Before I could answer, Anita slid a bowl of turmeric water filled with flowers and coins in front of us. "Let's play," she grinned.
We dipped our hands in together. My fingers brushed something—but more than that, they brushed his. He didn't pull away. Instead, his fingers lingered, curling slightly around mine, stroking slow circles under the water. My breath caught, and I tried not to look up, afraid my family would read the blush staining my cheeks.
Really, Vaishank? Distracting me?
A smirk tugged at my lips. I tightened my grip on the ring and pulled it out, raising my hand in triumph. Cheers and claps filled the room. He only smirked deeper, amused, letting me win.
We played more games—songs, riddles, laughter filling the air until the night softened. When everyone finally left, blessing us as they walked out, Vaishank shut the door.
The sudden silence wrapped around us.
All through the night, I had felt his eyes on me. Watching. Waiting. Claiming me without a word. When the last guest finally left, I knew I couldn't run anymore.
No family.
No noise.
Just him.
Just me.